He came with an offering, a carving of bone and opal strung together with willow. It was, according to the flickering information in his mind, a talisman to draw positive energy while the opal would absorb and cleanse the negative. Whether that was suited for whoever came, well, he had never claimed (nor would he want to) future visions. The world worked as it did for reasons beyond him and that would have to do.A sigh fluttered from his mouth as he placed the gift down at the edge of the lake. He felt split in half. He was a past unknown and a future unguided. The present was all he had control over, control that was minimal enough to be almost none. Case in point, children. His gut clenched in anxiety; was it dread that dropped like a stone throughout his body? He was far too twisted into knots to tell.
He dropped his head, tried to understand what and who and when and why and how. A valiant effort if the question hadn't twisted like a crocodile who had clamped its jaw tight around its prey. What had he done before the rift? Who was he? When had his life splintered in veins? Why had it happened? How did he go on? Did he regret it? Regret was such a heavy word.
"I don't know how to be a father or what a father is," he spoke at last, his eyes settling on the lone swan within the empty lake. "I was or am an unknown creature, I do and don't want this new . . ." he trailed off. The word burden had risen in his throat and he had choked on it; would that not be cruel? The children had not asked for it. He and she had chosen to partake. But were they a blessing? He lashed his tail in agitation."Children are both," a voice spoke sending him into a panic that chose fight. His eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched, a growl emanating from his lithe form.
Atone laughed, "You wanted a Legendary, you even brought a gift, and then you respond like this?" Amusement danced in her eyes, as she stood knee deep w"I don't know how to be a father or what a father is," he spoke at last, his eyes settling on the lone swan within the empty lake. "I was or am an unknown creature, I do and don't want this new . . ." he trailed off. The word burden had risen in his throat and he had choked on it; would that not be cruel? The children had not asked for it. He and she had chosen to partake. But were they a blessing? He lashed his tail in agitation.
"Children are both," a voice spoke sending him into a panic that chose fight. His eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched, a growl emanating from his lithe form.
Atone laughed, "You wanted a Legendary, you even brought a gift, and then you respond like this?" Amusement danced in her eyes, as she stood knee deep water, but there was also respect. He hadn't fled when confronted with a stranger. That spoke volumes as a potential protector to young ones.
Artisan blinked at the mare and swallowed the comment that had danced on his tongue.
"I," he started, "am sorry. I may as well be blind for how well I know how to act." His tone turned bitter. He hated this feeling. He hated not knowing. He hated and did not want to.
"You need not apologize. You were startled and decided to fight. Regardless of your knowledge of how to be a father, you choose survival and that is the thread to follow when it comes to children. You are theirs now and their life reflects on you. If you fold, they will suffer," she warned. "But all parents have failings and all children wish, when they are young and then again when they grow old, that their parents have done differently. That is how we all grow."
Atone understood his fears and frustrations far too well. She straddled the line. One half of her striving to be good, one half of her stuck in torment. It would never be easy and there would always be days she threatened to break, but the only option was forward.
"I want them to be stronger and better than I am," he replied. "I want them to know who they are."
The mare nodded, "Your children shall be healthy and hardy. They shall be born with the strength to try and the will to grow. As they mature, they shall learn who they are and embrace that who they wish to be. Your children will never stop striving or thriving to better themselves and those they love and the world they live in."
Artisan smiled, a heaviness lifting from deep within his chest.
"Th—" the word died. There was no mare standing before him. He blinked. Had he imagined it? Was it a memory?
But the talisman was gone.
He left with hope.